Fire and Rain
by cmaddict
Summary: The SVU squad is drawn into a showdown with a maniac who wants to re-enact Hitler's Final Solution-in New York City. Can they find him in time to save the city? Author's warning inside. C/E pairing.
1. Chapter 1

**Warning: Might contain offensive material. As the summary says, this story is about a true Nazi in New York City. Therefore, this story is full of Nazi rhetoric, including insults. This **_**in no way**_** reflects any of my personal beliefs. If you're offended by it, know that I don't believe a word of what the Nazi characters are saying. I literally almost got sick writing it. A lot of what I wrote about Germany was written from what I've read about their perception of life after World War I. Again, this in no way reflects what I personally believe about that period of history. A writer tries to channel his or her characters, and that's all I've done in this. I'm deeply sorry if it offends anyone.**

**Disclaimer**: I don't own any of the recognizable characters. I just borrow them for my own enjoyment.

* * *

**Chapter 1**

**April 14, 1945  
Berlin, Germany**

"_Verdammt_," Johann Braun muttered as he stuffed more clothes into his tiny suitcase. The rumble of the Allied bombs grew closer and closer. They'd be there soon, right at his doorstep.

He knew what would happen if the Allies captured him. _Die Fuhrer_ had warned them about that more than enough times. Those Jew-sympathizers would slaughter them like pigs. Them, the master race! No, he'd have to leave _das Vaterland_. Only in another land, one that understood _die Fuhrer's_ ideals and philosophy, could he again do his work.

Braun was young, only twenty-two, but he'd been one of the most highly decorated young men in the party. Hitler had seen potential in him. Braun was fiercely loyal to the party and to Hitler personally. He'd risen up the ranks in the _Hitler-Jugend_ and had been an enthusiastic participant in the _kristallnacht_ demonstration in Kassel. At the age of sixteen, he'd become the leader of his corps. With his blonde hair and blue eyes, there was no question whatsoever to the purity of his ancestry.

When he was finally of age, he'd joined the _Schutzstaffel_. Oh, that was a proud day in his life. They were the best of the best in Germany – only the purest, most loyal party members could even hope to join their ranks. Braun could remember watching them march by his parents' home in Kassel when he was just a small boy, steps crisp and faces like stone. His father had leaned down to him, put his hand on his head, and whispered, "Someday, my son. Someday Germany will be strong again."

He'd never forgotten those words. For a time, he'd even lived to see them come true, though his father had not. A loyal follower of Hitler, his father had been killed in France by a spy for the Allies before the great invasion. But his father had taught his son how to be a good Aryan and a good German.

Germany under Hitler had been a utopia of sorts. They were finally a world power again, like the Empire of old, not that sniveling shell of a country after the Great War. Then, it was a country run by Jews, who cheated those that weren't like them and hoarded everything to themselves. They were the true cause of the economic depression. They were the cause of everything.

Then Hitler came, their savior, their messiah. He promised to bring Germany back into power, to the apex of the modern world. Under him, Germany prospered. They took back the land that was rightfully theirs under the old Empire, and then some.

Hitler's greatest triumph had been what they called _die Endlösung_ – the Final Solution to Europe's problem of Jews. Braun had visited one of the many camps spread throughout the Reich shortly after he joined the SS. The Fuhrer had managed to find a way to solve the issue of the Jews. And, in Braun's mind, it was a damn good one. Studying their bodies for scientific research, discovering how certain diseases worked, how much pain people could stand, how long they could go without food and water – natural selection at its best.

But, as they say, all good things must come to an end. The Allies, the Jew-supporters, were stronger than Hitler had thought. That had been _die Fuhrer's_ greatest mistake. He'd underestimated the resolve of the Western powers to stop him, though Braun couldn't figure out why the hell they'd want to stop him.

Braun had planned on staying in the mountains near Berchtesgaden, to carry out the Fuhrer's order to repel the invaders. But then he realized that he had a better chance of carrying on Hitler's plan alive. He could make a difference, by training a new group of young people in the ways of the Aryan race.

That was what he would do in the new country. He would carry on his dream of a pure race. He would carry on his father's dream of a great Germany, ruled by a pure race.

But to do that, he would first have to be rid of the Jew supporters. Make them see that the Jews would only bring them down. Unite all true Aryans under one banner. Create that pure race.

Another explosion rocked the house, and Braun cursed again. Slamming his suitcase shut with a bang, he grabbed the blank passport the Argentinean ambassador had given him days before. It would be enough to get him into Spain, and eventually across the ocean to South America. There, Braun could build a new life. And continue his work under a new identity.

Finally, he picked up the tiny velvet bag from the bedside table. The stones inside rattled together, creating an odd sort of harmony with the explosions from the Allied bombs. He couldn't remember the face of the Jew he'd taken them from. His visage blended in with the memories of all the other Jews he'd robbed. The stones would fetch him several million American dollars in Argentina. With that, he'd live like a king.

Oh, it would be a good life.

* * *

**1947  
Buenos Aires, Argentina**

Johann Braun groaned and stretched his legs as his cargo ship drew nearer to the Argentinean shore. Their incredibly rich benefactor, General Juan Peron, had provided them with all the amenities necessary for high-ranking soldiers – good food, relatively soft beds, and housing when they landed.

Argentina would be nice, especially with the stones he kept safe in his breast pocket.

He wasn't the only party official on board the ship bound for Buenos Aires. There were twenty others just like him. They'd blended in with the refugees from Holland and Germany attempting to make their way across Europe to safety. Then, according to the plan set in motion by Peron, they boarded a ship in Spain to Buenos Aires. It had been a long and hard trip. Their quarters were cramped – unbecoming of officials of their rank. But, it was surviving in tiny living arrangements or dying at the hands of the Jew-sympathizers.

Besides, he had it on good word that Peron would provide them much better housing here than even in Germany.

He had great plans for when they finally landed. He'd have a big house, outside the city limits. He'd marry one of the women from Italy or Spain and have a son. A strong, strapping boy, with blonde hair like his. He'd teach the boy about _das Vaterland_, about the great Fuhrer, about how great the Third Reich could have been. But most of all, he'd teach the boy to be proud of his race, that the Aryan race was superior to all other. Especially the Jews.

* * *

**March 18, 2006  
Somewhere over New Jersey**

Wilhelm Braun strained to see out the window of the 757 aircraft. The deep blue of the Atlantic shimmered below them. He sighed. It reminded him of home. The water of Buenos Aires was much prettier. Still, he held great expectations for this, his first trip to the United States.

The young man brushed a strand of dark hair out of his eyes and settled back into his seat. With his dark hair, he could easily pass for South American, but his blue eyes

He pulled a worn photo out of his wallet and sighed. His grandfather glared back at him from the picture, looking sharp in his SS uniform. He'd taught him all about the Fatherland. As a small boy, Wilhelm read _Mein Kampf_. Hell, he'd even memorized most of it. He'd read the Fuhrer's speeches and memorized most of them. Yes, William had been well-versed in the ways of hate.

His father once told him, "Germany was once a great land. Under the Fuhrer, no one would dare cross her. Someday, someday she will be great again. Once all the undesirables are wiped off the face of the earth."

Wilhelm never forgot those words. They were drilled into him from the time he was born, just as they had been drilled into his father. He'd heard stories of the glory days, seen pictures of the advances in science made under Josef Mengele. He could remember his grandfather's blue eyes shining as he recalled the first time he ever shook hands with the Fuhrer. His grandfather was a true patriot, and he'd trained his son and grandson to be the same.

His father's plan for getting into the United States was brilliant. Wilhelm had received a degree in foreign business management at the university in Buenos Aires several years prior to this visit, a degree which got him a professional immigrant visa to the United States. He even had an authentic letter of employment from a financial company in his carry-on bag. Everything was perfectly legal. They wouldn't even dream of the true reason he was immigrating to the United States.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we are beginning our final descent into John F. Kennedy International Airport." The flight attendant's nasally voice startled him, and he quickly shoved the photo back into his pocket.

"The captain has turned the seatbelt sign on, so please make your way back to your seats. Make sure all your carry-on luggage is stowed properly, your tray tables are upright and locked, and your seats are in the upright and locked position."

Wilhelm grabbed his Argentinean passport and customs declaration off the tray table and locked it to the seat in front of him. Holding the documents close to his chest, he leaned back a little and sighed. The flight from Buenos Aires was too long for his tastes. Fortunately, if all went well here, he would never have to return again.

Silently he rehearsed his list of things to do when he landed. He would email his father once he got settled into an apartment and ask for money to be wired to the bank account he would set up. His father was incredibly wealthy, just like his grandfather. Erik Braun had never really told his son why he had so much money, but Wilhelm wasn't one to press the issue.

Within minutes, he felt the nose of the plane dip down, and he could hear the wheels lock into place. Wilhelm took another deep breath and gripped the sides of his seat. He really hated flying.

Finally the wheels screeched as they made contact with the tarmac. He felt a quick jerk as the plane connected with the runway and quickly braked. They coasted to the gate, and the "Fasten Seatbelt" sign blinked off. Wilhelm quickly stood, opened the overhead compartment, and pulled out his carry-on luggage.

Twenty minutes later, Wilhelm stepped up to the tall counter and smiled at the bored-looking immigration agent. "Hello," he said amiably, his voice holding a thick German accent.

"Passport and visa," the agent replied monotonously.

He handed over the documents and folded his arms across his chest. The agent glanced up at him once and flipped through the passport.

"Please place your right thumb on the scanner to your right."

Wilhelm complied, and the agent hit a couple of keys on his keyboard.

"Now look at the camera on the computer."

He looked up and smiled for the tiny camera perched on the computer monitor. The agent nodded when he finished taking the picture, and Wilhelm stepped back a little.

"Nature of your business?"

"I have a job waiting for me at a company on Wall Street."

"Which company?"

"Lionel, Ferrer and Marks."

The agent nodded and hit a couple of keys again. "Checks out." He pulled out a stamp and pressed it onto the passport and visa. "Welcome to the U.S., Mr. Adolphus."

Wilhelm Braun, also known as Joseph Adolphus, smiled and took back his documents. "Thank you."

With a smile on his face, he made his way past the security guards and through customs. As he walked with the throng of people to the baggage claim, he spotted an American flag hanging from the rafters.

_The land of opportunity_, he thought as his smile widened. _And oh, the opportunities._

* * *

**A/N:** Just so you know, I did quite a bit of research going into this story about Nazis in Argentina, and I'll address a lot of that history later on in the story. I also thought you might need a little translation on some of the words. I tried to be as authentic as possible.

_Hitler-Jugend_: The Hitler Youth

_Schutzstaffel_: The Nazi SS, Hitler's elite troops.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Thank you so much for all your kind reviews! The history of World War II has always fascinated me, and when my Spanish professor this summer taught us about Argentina and Peron's project to get the Nazis out of Europe, inspiration struck. The last chapter was just a set-up of the characters and the background. This chapter gets into the case. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 2**

**Office of ADA Casey Novak  
Friday, April 20**

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, you've been summoned… Damn it!"

Assistant District Attorney Casey Novak groaned and drew a line through yet another sentence on her yellow legal pad. Sometimes she hated writing these opening statements. It was an opportunity for the defense to snow the jury early on, especially when Rebecca Balthus was the legal aide lawyer. That woman was the master of bull.

Casey was so engrossed in her work that she didn't notice the familiar figure standing silhouetted in her doorway.

Detective Elliot Stabler leaned against the wooden doorframe and surreptitiously watched the tall, athletic attorney, a bemused grin splitting his handsome face in half. Casey had gotten out of her chair and was pacing across the office, muttering to herself.

"Ladies and gentlemen, you'll hear evidence of a heinous crime…"

She was completely oblivious to his presence, a fact which only widened the mischievous smile on his face. He loved surprising his girlfriend. His girlfriend. Elliot still wasn't quite used to using that word to reference Casey Novak, but it was true. Their relationship was still budding, but Elliot was sure that he hadn't been so happy in a very long time.

Standing there watching her, his thoughts wandered back three months. He and Casey had been dancing around each other for months after his divorce from Kathy was finalized. When he finally asked her out, she confessed that she'd always had a crush on him, but she insisted on making sure it was all right with Olivia. His partner had been thrilled for both of them – at least outwardly. After a month of seeing each other, Olivia had come to him and confessed that Casey was actually good for him, and their relationship had her full support.

His kids loved her, which was one thing that she'd been worried about when they started seeing each other in a more-than-friends manner. Maureen and Kathleen were excited to have a young, hip (was that the word they used?) girl around who would listen to their problems, and Dickie and Lizzie were already warming up to her. Elliot remembered the first time he'd brought her by the house. She made them dinner and then beaten them all at Clue. It was the first time he'd seen Kathleen smile in nearly a year.

"And when you have seen all the evidence, ladies and gentlemen, you will find him guilty of rape and murder…"

Her voice brought him back to the present, and he folded his arms across his chest and cleared his throat. "Ahem!"

The strawberry-blonde jumped and whipped around, startled. "Jesus Christ, Elliot!" she exclaimed, placing a hand over her wildly beating heart.

Elliot grinned. "Hey."

"You scared the crap outta me."

"Sorry." He quickly crossed the room and enveloped her in his strong arms, breathing in her perfume. It didn't take long before her arms wrapped around his waist, and she sighed contentedly. "Working on your opening statement for the Petrovich case?"

"Mmm-hmm," she muttered against his shoulder. She dropped her arms from his waist and stepped back a little, glancing around to make sure no one saw their intimate exchange. "I have to make sure this one's good."

"You're going up against Balthus, right?"

"Yeah," Casey sighed. She stepped back and leaned against the edge of her desk. "Fortunately we have a pretty solid case. But she's already tried the 'bury me in paperwork' tactic."

"Sometimes I really can't stand that woman."

"You and me both. Unfortunately, she's a hell of a lawyer."

"You'll beat her." He flashed his famous grin. "You always do."

Casey chuckled. "Not always, but thanks for the vote of confidence." She cocked an eyebrow at him and brushed a strand of strawberry-blonde hair out of her face. "You didn't stop by just to scare the hell outta me, did you?"

Elliot smiled. "No, although that was brilliant, wasn't it?" He smirked at Casey's harrumph. "It's getting late, and I thought maybe we could grab something to eat."

"Now that you mention it, I am getting hungry. How does that Italian place on Thirty-fourth sound?"

He took a couple of steps closer to her and straddled her legs, feeling the rush of electricity shoot through his body as his slack-clad legs brushed against her bare skin. "Actually, I was thinking more about going back to your apartment and ordering in."

Her eyebrow shot up again, and her blue-green eyes danced. "Really? What else is in this grand scheme of yours, Detective Stabler?"

"Well," he began as he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her flush to his body, "I figured we'd order some Chinese, pop in a movie, and… well, you know."

"Mmm, actually I _don't_ know, Elliot," she returned with a smile as she put her hands on his biceps. "Why don't you explain it to me?"

"Let's just say it starts with a little bit of this." He quickly leaned in and gently brushed his lips against hers, tasting the fruity flavor of her lip gloss.

"I like that," she murmured against his lips.

Elliot chuckled, the sound vibrating against her lips and shooting tingles through her body. "I thought you might." He deepened the kiss just a little, not wanting to let her go. She shivered as his fingers brushed against the skin under the hem of her shirt, and he tightened his embrace.

"Well, isn't this sweet?"

The familiar, sickeningly-saccharine voice startled them, and Elliot practically leapt away from Casey and whirled around. His ice-blue eyes narrowed when he spotted Rebecca Balthus standing in Casey's doorway, a mirthless smile plastered on her face.

Casey couldn't resist rolling her eyes. "What do you want, Rebecca?"

"Casey, I always knew you had good taste. Liplocking with Detective Stabler, the hottie of the Special Victims Unit." The diminutive blonde shook her head and smiled. "This will fuel the courthouse rumor mill for months."

"Counselor, you must have a reason for being here," Elliot said coldly, folding his arms across his muscular chest. "You aren't exactly in the habit of social calls."

"Touchy, aren't we? I guess I would be too if someone interrupted me about to get laid."

"Rebecca!" Casey was losing her patience with the overly-sarcastic legal aid lawyer.

"Fine." Balthus reached into her briefcase and pulled out a blue-backed legal motion. She smirked as she crossed Casey's office to her desk and handed it to the fuming ADA.

"What is it this time?" She unfolded the blue-back, and her eyes immediately narrowed as she scanned the document. "Not guilty by reason of mental defect? The trial starts on Monday, and you're just now claiming insanity?"

"It's a legitimate defense. My client was not in his right mind when he raped and murdered Elizabeth Collins."

"Sure he wasn't," Elliot said sarcastically. "He just hid the evidence and tried to cover up his crime."

"He might be sane now, but that doesn't mean he wasn't insane when he committed the crime."

"Maybe, but Judge Petrovsky is going to see this for what it is." Casey threw the motion down on her desk and glared at the other woman. "It's a stall tactic."

Balthus shrugged. "My expert witness might disagree. Hearing's on Monday. I'll let you two get back to your tonsil-hockey." With that, she turned and flounced out of Casey's office.

"That bitch," Casey muttered as she ran her hands through her hair.

"She's got nothin'. It's a stall tactic."

"You know that, and I know that, but no one snows judges better than Rebecca Balthus." She sighed and gave him an apologetic look. "I think dinner isn't going to happen tonight, Elliot."

"Aw, c'mon, Case! The motion hearing isn't until Monday." He reached out and tenderly grabbed her hand, caressing her palm with his thumb. "Besides, did I mention that I have tomorrow morning off?"

"Really?" Casey's eyebrows went up again, and a smile played at the corners of her mouth. "Well, now that changes everything."

Elliot grinned. "Thought you might go for that."

"Sometimes it's scary how well you know me, Stabler," she joked as she grabbed her briefcase and began putting files into it.

"Yeah, but I sure can't wait to get to know you better."

Casey stopped what she was doing and looked up at him for a minute. Never in a million years had she thought she would hear those words from his mouth. Casey had always had a little crush on the tall, muscular, very married Detective Stabler, even from the times they played each other in softball. When his divorce from Kathy was finalized, though, she was sure that he would finally go after Olivia. But he had surprised them all by asking Casey on a date. And now, three months later, she was falling head over heels for him. Frankly, it scared her.

"Casey?"

She snapped back to the present and turned to see him staring at her, blue eyes filled with concern. "Huh?"

"You okay?"

Casey shook her head and smiled. "Yeah. I'm definitely okay." She zipped up her bag and turned off her desk lamp. "I think Chinese take-out sounds wonderful." She shifted her bag to her left hand and grabbed his hand with her right, interlacing her fingers with his.

Elliot smiled and squeezed her hand. "Just wait until you see what I have planned for dessert."

* * *

**45 E. 87****th**** Street**

Joseph Adolphus shifted his large black duffel bag to his shoulder as he scaled the ladder to the roof of the office building across from the Park Avenue Synagogue in Manhattan. It was after midnight, and the streets below him were relatively empty.

His feet soon hit the roof, and he ran toward the other side of the building, the side facing 87th Street. Adolphus's blue eyes scanned the streets below, just to make sure there was no one watching. That was why he chose to come so early – it greatly lessened the risk of someone spotting him.

Adolphus crouched down below the four-foot concrete safety wall and unzipped his bag. He quickly pulled out the various components of his .308 IMBEL sniper rifle. His father had procured it from a Brazilian black market arms dealer and had it shipped to his son by hiding the components among packs of cigarettes and coffee. It was unconventional, at best, but the American authorities had never discovered it.

Expertly he reassembled the rifle and leaned it against the wall. He checked his watch one more time. Just after one in the morning. He pressed a couple of buttons on the digital timepiece to set an alarm for six in the morning. That would give him time to properly calibrate the settings on his scope before they began showing up.

Only six more hours before the war would begin.

* * *

**Apartment of Casey Novak  
Friday, April 20**

_Bzzz. Bzzz. Bzzz._

Elliot's cell phone vibrated loudly against the wooden bedside-table. He groaned and reluctantly opened his eyes. Casey was sleeping next to him, her back resting against his naked chest, strawberry-blonde hair fanned out against the white pillow. Elliot lifted his head to look at the clock on Casey's nightstand. _7:44_.

_Bzzz. Bzzz. Bzzz._

"You should probably get that," Casey mumbled sleepily into her pillow.

"Yeah, probably." Elliot gently slid his arm from around her waist and reached for his still-buzzing phone. His fumbling fingers finally found the noisy device, and he held it up to check the caller I.D. _Olivia Benson_. He sighed and flipped it open. "Stabler… Liv, what's up?"

He listened for a moment, then rolled over and opened the drawer on the bedside table where Casey kept a pen and pad of paper. Elliot tossed the pad on the bedside table. "What's the address?" He quickly scribbled it down and ripped off the piece of paper. "Okay, I'll be there in thirty minutes. Bye."

Elliot flipped the phone shut and tossed back the covers. Reaching for his clothes, he glanced back at Casey. She had rolled over and was watching him intently, propped up on her elbow. He shot a rueful smile in her direction as he pulled on his jeans.

"New case?" she asked, sweeping a strand of hair out of her eyes with one long finger.

"Yeah. I'm sorry."

Casey shook her head and smiled. "Keep me updated."

"Will do." He pulled his shirt over his head, leaned over, and gave her lips a quick peck. "I'll call you later."

"I have an arraignment at ten, but I should be in my office the rest of the day."

Elliot nodded. "Okay." The bed creaked as he got up, protesting the sudden shift in weight. He went around the edge of the bed and out her bedroom door

"Hey, El?"

Her voice stopped him, and he stuck his head back into the bedroom.

Casey smiled at him. "Be careful."

Elliot grinned. "Always."

* * *

**Park Avenue Synagogue  
****50 E. 87****th**** Street  
Friday, April 20**

"What the hell?" Elliot muttered as he screeched to a halt outside the Park Avenue Synagogue. Uniformed cops, CSU techs, and detectives were bustling around the crime scene, a small playground outside the synagogue. Lights from the ambulances flashed red and white against the early morning clouds. Already a throng of curious bystanders gathered outside the yellow tape and police barricades.

He turned off the engine and quickly got out of his car, slamming the door behind him. His blue eyes scanned the crowd for his partner's brown head. Finally he spotted her, rushing alongside two EMTs and a blood-soaked gurney occupied by a small, pale little boy. "Liv!"

Detective Olivia Benson glanced up and stopped when she laid eyes on him. "Two vics, one DOA at the hospital."

"What about this one?"

"Isaiah Jaslow, age eight, GSW to the abdomen," the female EMT answered as they loaded the boy into the back of the ambulance. "We've managed to control the bleeding, but he's lost a lot of blood already."

"They're taking him to Lennox-Hill," Olivia added as she climbed into the back of the bus. "I'll call you when I know something. O'Halloran's over there." She jerked her head in the direction of the swing set. She sighed and lowered her voice so the EMT's couldn't hear her. "I have a bad feeling about this, El."

He glanced around and swallowed the bile that rose up in his throat at the sight of the already-darkening pool of crimson on the sidewalk. "Yeah. I know." Elliot gave her one last look before reaching up and closing the doors of the ambulance. He banged on them twice with the palm of his hand, and the emergency vehicle sped off down the street.

"I have that same feeling," Elliot muttered to himself as he walked across the playground to the crime scene.

CSU technician O'Halloran met Elliot halfway to the scene. "The slug that killed the first boy was a through-and-through." They walked toward the brick wall behind the small swing set.

"Did you find it?"

"Sure did." O'Halloran pointed to a large, round hole in the brick façade, about waist-high to both tall men. "Dug it out of the wall behind the kid."

"Anything ballistics can tell us?"

"Sorry. It was too smashed up to tell even what caliber it is, much less any ballistic evidence. But," the tech squatted down next to the drying pool of blood in front of the swings, "the kid and the wall give us two points of origin. We'll set up some lasers, see if we can't figure out where the shot came from."

Elliot nodded. "Good."

"Elliot!"

The senior detective turned around to see Captain Donald Cragen standing with another older man in a _yarmulke_. The older man waved him over, and Elliot quickly joined them.

"Detective Stabler, this is Rabbi Horowitz, the headmaster at the school."

Elliot stuck out his hand, and the older religious man shook it. "Rabbi, what can you tell me about all this?"

The aging rabbi shook his head sadly. "I honestly don't know. I was inside with the faculty. I only came out when I heard the children shouting."

"Who was out here watching them?"

"Mr. Liebgott." Rabbi Horowitz pointed to a younger man talking with a uniformed officer. "He got most of the students inside."

"Rabbi, have there been any disgruntled parents or anything in the last couple of weeks?"

"No. I know all of the parents of these boys." His dark eyes filled with tears. "I just can't believe that Jacob is dead." Seeing Elliot's confused expression, he wiped away a tear. "Jacob Eshkol. His parents are members of our congregation. So are Isaiah Jaslow's parents – the other wounded boy. How is he?"

Elliot shook his head. "I'm not sure, sir, but my partner's on her way to the hospital now. She'll make sure his parents are called, and she'll keep us updated."

"Rabbi, have there been any threats made against the school?" Cragen asked.

The rabbi gave him a mirthless smile. "Captain, we're a Hebrew school. We get threats all the time from neo-Nazis and other hate groups. But nothing's ever come out of it except graffiti on our walls and some hate stickers on our door."

Elliot gave his captain a look and sighed. "Right. Thank you for your help, Rabbi. We'd appreciate it if you would help us get into contact with the parents."

"I'd be glad to help." His dark eyes caught Elliot's blue eyes, and the detective was startled by the raw emotion he saw there. "I hope you find the man who did this."

He was taken aback, and he stared at the rabbi for a minute before replying. "We will, Rabbi. We will."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Thanks again for all your wonderful reviews! It always brightens my day when I see a review alert in my inbox. And I've needed some brighter days lately. It's a good thing I actually finished this story, because classes start tomorrow! Yikes! Hope I'm not too OOC with this chapter. I've tried to make the story as much like an actual case on the show as possible, but throwing in the romance angle. Hope you enjoy!

Oh, and special virtual cookies to anyone that can figure out from this chapter why I chose April 20 as the date of the crime.

* * *

**Chapter 3**

**45 E. 87****th**** Street  
Friday, April 20**

Detective John Munch leaned over the concrete barrier and gave a low whistle. "Guy must've had nerves of steel."

"Maybe you could take some lessons from him," his partner, Detective Odafin "Fin" Tutuola, quipped. O'Halloran's lasers had led back to this building, a business across the street from the synagogue. From the trajectory of the shots, the tech was sure that this was where the shots had originated.

"Cute." He turned to Vizcarrando, who was bending down next to the wall. "Anything?"

She stood up with a smile. "He policed his brass."

"So what are you so happy about?" Fin retorted.

"He left us a boot print." She pointed to the concrete roof, and the two detectives bent down to take a look. Munch squinted a little over his dark glasses. Sure enough, he could clearly see the outline of the tread imprinted on the concrete.

"I make it to be a man's size ten," the CSU tech continued. "I'll get the photo back to the lab."

Fin leaned over the edge of the barrier again. "Clear view to the playground. That can't be an easy shot."

"It's not. He'd have to have a hell of a scope to see that distance." Munch ran his hand through his graying hair.

"High-powered rifle with a scope. Are we looking at a professional?"

"Detectives!"

They whirled around to see a uniformed officer leading a short, balding man in a business suit toward them. He was wringing his hands together.

"This is Mr. Johnson. He owns jewelry store on the first floor."

"This is just terrible," Johnson muttered. "Terrible. Little kids being gunned down, right across the street from me. This isn't supposed to happen in this neighborhood."

"When did you get here this morning?" Fin asked, pulling his notepad out of his jacket pocket.

"Around eight, like I always do, to open up."

"So you didn't see anything?"

"No." He sighed and rubbed his hairless head. "I just saw all the police cars. I heard about those poor boys from one of the neighbors."

"Do you have security cameras for the exterior?" Munch asked, folding his arms across his chest.

He nodded. "I'll get those tapes for you."

"We'd really appreciate it." Munch motioned to the uniform. "Go with him."

As Johnson and the uniform disappeared around the corner, Fin glanced at his partner. "You think those tapes'll give us somethin'?"

"I love watching movies in the morning."

* * *

Elliot sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. He'd just finished interviewing the boys from the playground, and he'd had enough of tears for one day. This always exhausted him – interviewing traumatized children. George Huang, their psychiatric consultant, helped a little, but it was always the same story. Some of them clammed up, refusing to talk about what they'd witnessed. Others had no idea what they'd seen – their imaginations filled in details that might or might not be true. Children didn't exactly make good eyewitnesses.

Struck by a sudden thought, he pulled out his cell phone and checked the time. Just before ten. He flipped it open and dialed a familiar number.

It rang twice before she picked up. "Novak."

"Hey, Casey, it's Elliot."

"I heard," she said simply. "It's all over the news. The shooting at the Hebrew school?"

"Yeah." He sighed again and rubbed his tired eyes.

"What've you found?"

"I'm, uh, interviewing witnesses now. They aren't exactly giving me much help. But O'Halloran confirmed that the shots came from across the street, probably with a high-powered rifle."

"Impressive. How's the boy that was wounded?"

"Liv called a couple of minutes ago. He's still in surgery."

There was a pause on Casey's end of the line. "How are you?" she asked quietly.

Elliot couldn't suppress a tiny smile. She knew him too well – the cases with children were always hard for him. He always saw his own children lying on the ground bleeding. "I'm okay."

"Would you tell me if you weren't?"

He chuckled. "Probably not."

He could hear Casey's sigh over the receiver. "They're calling my case for arraignment. I have to go."

"Knock 'em dead."

"I will." She paused for a minute. "You'll find him, El."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence." He smiled, even though he knew she couldn't see him. "I'll call you later."

"Bye." He heard the dial tone in his ear, and he flipped his phone shut with another sigh.

"Elliot."

He turned around to see Cragen standing behind him, a stack of papers in his hand. "We finished with the interviews, Cap," he said, leaning back in his chair. "None of the kids saw anything except the blood."

"I had the rabbi pull all of the threatening letters they got." He waved the stack of papers.

Elliot's eyes widened. "Damn."

"And that's only for the past six months." Cragen handed Elliot half of them. "Doesn't exactly narrow our list of possible suspects, does it?"

The detective thumbed through the wad of paper. "American Nazi party, Free Palestine – who the hell are these people?"

"Anti-Semitic, anti-Israel bigots," Cragen answered with a wan smile.

"Some of these have business addresses on them."

"Munch and Fin are going over video footage from the business across the street, and TARU is pulling red light cameras from the vicinity. Call Liv and go talk to these guys."

* * *

**Precinct 16  
Friday, April 20**

Munch stuck the forefingers of both hands under his dark glasses and rubbed his tired eyes. He and Fin had been going over the security footage from the jewelry store for a couple of hours while Elliot and Huang finished interviewing witnesses. His vision was starting to blur.

"Who'da thought there would be so many people on the street at seven a.m.?" Fin said suddenly, breaking the silence.

"City that never sleeps, my friend."

Fin sighed and shifted his chin to his other hand. Suddenly he sat straight up in his chair. "Did you see that?"

"See what?" Munch glanced back and forth between his partner and the television.

"That guy."

"What guy? I saw about twenty guys."

Fin glared at his partner and grabbed the remote. He pressed the rewind button, and the figures on the screen moved rapidly in reverse. After just a couple of seconds, he pressed play again. "Watch."

Munch leaned forward a little and squinted behind his glasses. Finally, as the timestamp on the bottom of the screen read _7:32 a.m._, he saw a man wearing boots pass by the security camera, a large dark bag slung over one shoulder. "Well, I'll be damned."

"I'd say that bag's big enough to carry a long-range high-powered rifle."

"Just after the shooting too. Pretty good bet he's our guy."

"Too bad we can't get a face off this."

"No, but it's good enough for a vague physical description."

Fin nodded. "Sure as hell better'n nothing."

* * *

**Offices of Free Palestine  
****967 E. 120****th**** Street  
Friday, April 20**

"Sorry, Detectives." Jamie Rawlins, a pretty brunette woman in her thirties, smiled at Elliot and Olivia as she carried a stack of books to a desk on the other side of their spacious office. "We're a little busy today, planning a party."

"To celebrate two Jewish boys getting shot?" Olivia asked, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

Rawlins stared at the other woman for a moment before shaking her head. "We don't advocate violence, Detective Benson. We just exercise our First Amendment rights to freedom of assembly and freedom of speech."

"If you don't advocate violence, care to explain this?" Elliot pulled out a copy of the letter he received from Rabbi Horowitz. "'All Christ-killers will burn in hell. Free Palestine of the Zionist occupation.' What's that about?"

"Our ideology. Last time I checked, having a belief system isn't illegal."

"Ms. Rawlins, a little boy is dead." Olivia's brown eyes bored into the other woman. "Another one is clinging to life."

The other woman sighed. "It wasn't us. We believe that the Jews should leave Palestine. We get signatures to take to the U.N., to try to get them to disestablish Israel as a nation. We don't shoot children at schools. Look, Detectives, from what I've heard, it sounds like this guy was rogue. The groups that we associate with us prefer a peaceful way of expressing our beliefs."

"Really?" Olivia gestured to the Nazi flag hanging on the wall behind Rawlins. "That doesn't seem very peaceful to me."

"Only because you're an agent of the Zionist government. You've been brainwashed."

"Pot calling the kettle black." Elliot leaned against the desk behind him. "If you're so peaceful, you wouldn't mind us taking a look around, would you?"

"I most certainly would. I know my Constitutional rights. You have no probable cause. I guarantee you, Detective, it wasn't one of the people in my group. They don't even own guns."

"Could you point us to a group that might advocate violence?"

"Pick up any skin-head on the street. It wasn't us. We might hate the Jews, but we would never kill them. Especially little kids. I have two boys of my own, same age." She put her hands on her hips. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a lot of work to do."

Olivia and Elliot shared a look and started walking toward the door. On impulse, Olivia turned around. "Ms. Rawlins, what exactly is this party for?"

"Hitler's birthday."

The two detectives glanced at each other, and Elliot rolled his eyes. "Thank you for your help, Ms. Rawlins," he said as he opened the door for his partner.

Olivia took a deep breath as they stepped outside into the noisy Manhattan street. Her stomach was twisting and turning, and she exhaled slowly, feeling the knots of utter disgust start to loosen. After doing her job for eight years, few things disgusted her. But seeing such blind hate… it almost made her sick to her stomach.

"Liv?"

Her partner's voice broke into her thoughts and she glanced up at him. Elliot's handsome face contorted in concern.

"You okay?" he asked.

She nodded and swept a stray strand of dark hair out of her eyes. "Yeah, I guess so." She smiled as he put his hand on her shoulder and led her to their car. "So what now?"

"I don't think she was involved, but I'm not willing to let her group off that easy."

Olivia raised an eyebrow at him. "So are we gonna pay your girlfriend a visit?" A grin spread across her face as he glared at her.

"Cute." Olivia was the only person that knew about their relationship. They'd agreed that it would be best to keep it out of work, afraid it would affect their cases. "She should be out of arraignment now."

* * *

**Office of ADA Casey Novak  
Friday, April 20**

"Casey, all we're asking is for a subpoena for their member list." Olivia sighed exasperatedly. "One kid is dead, another one is clinging to life."

"I know, and I wish I could help you." Casey folded her arms across her chest and glanced at Elliot for some back-up. Her boyfriend looked at her apologetically, caught once again between his lover and his partner. The attorney sighed. "As much as I hate it too, the First Amendment gives them the right to assemble peacefully. Since you have no evidence to the contrary, I have no probable cause to subpoena their records."

"Can't you try?"

"It's not going to work, Liv!" She combed her fingers through her strawberry-blonde hair. "I'd get laughed out of the chambers of any judge in the country. I know you're outraged – I am too! But I can't legally do anything until you find me some damn evidence!"

"You didn't see that kid, covered in blood. He would have been in incredible pain if he were conscious. You didn't talk to that Rawlins woman."

"I'm sure if I had, it would have turned my stomach too. But the Constitution, which I've sworn to uphold, guarantees them the right to free speech. I can't do anything against that without evidence that there's some sort of criminal activity going on."

Olivia opened her mouth to protest, but she caught Elliot's glare and closed it with a snap. She quickly turned on her heel and stormed out of Casey's office.

The younger woman sighed and rubbed her forehead. "I wish there was something I could do," she said softly.

"I know," Elliot replied, stepping closer to her. He reached out and gently placed one large hand on her shoulder. "She's just frustrated."

"So what's new?" Casey quipped, eliciting a laugh from Elliot.

"Hey, El?"

Elliot turned to see his partner standing in the doorway, her mouth agape and tanned face pale. "What?" he asked, suddenly concerned.

"The hospital just called me." Olivia swallowed hard. "Isaiah Jaslow just died from his wounds."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

**Lennox-Hill Hospital  
Friday, April 20**

Olivia and Elliot stood outside Isaiah Jaslow's room in the pediatric intensive care unit. The boy's dark hair contrasted sharply with his deathly-pale skin and the white of the pillow case. Elliot clenched his fists as he watched the boy's parents weep over the corpse of their dead son. It just wasn't right. No parent should have to bury his or her child.

"He just lost too much blood."

The voice behind them startled both of them, and they whipped around to see a doctor in a white lab coat standing behind them. His blue eyes looked weary, and he walked as if he had a heavy weight on his shoulders. He held out his hand to Elliot. "Dr. Bradshaw."

Elliot took it with a half smile. "Detective Stabler, and this is my partner, Detective Benson."

"What happened, Doctor?" Olivia asked.

"He lost too much blood at the scene. We got him into surgery as soon as we could, but the bullet ripped up his spleen and liver. We tried transfusions, but his blood pressure plummeted as soon as we got him on the operating table." The handsome doctor held up a plastic bag with a bullet inside. "I'm assuming you want this."

"This is it?" Elliot reached out and took it from the doctor's outstretched hand. He held it up to the light and frowned. "That's sniper ammo."

"Our guy's a sniper?" Olivia looked at him incredulously.

"A well-trained one, too." Elliot stuffed the bag in his pocket and looked up at the doctor. "Thank you, Doctor."

Bradshaw nodded. "Glad to help." With that, he turned on his heel and disappeared around the corner.

* * *

**Precinct 16  
Friday, April 20**

Elliot quickly downed the rest of his sandwich and glanced across the room at Munch and Fin. Munch was talking animatedly on the phone with the ballistics lab, and Fin was entering data in the display computer next to his desk.

"Lab says that the slug was definitely sniper caliber," Munch announced as he replaced his phone on its cradle. "It's in good enough shape for a ballistics match once we find the gun."

"I still think it has something to do with those anti-Semitic groups," Olivia piped up from her desk.

"Could be," Cragen said as he joined his detectives. "But unless we can link that guy to one of those groups, we'll never know."

"So what do we have?" Elliot asked as he leaned on his desk.

Fin jabbed his forefinger at the board. "Male, brown hair, about six feet tall, carrying a big black duffle bag."

Olivia leaned back in her chair. "And we're just assuming he's got the rifle in there?"

"It's certainly big enough to carry it when it's been broken down. Even a standard-caliber rifle is pretty big." Elliot interlaced his fingers behind his head and leaned back in his own chair.

"Morales picked him up on one of the red light cameras walking east on Eighty-seventh, past Park Avenue," Munch said as he rested against Olivia's desk.

Cragen sighed. "There's a metro station on Eighty-sixth. If he took the subway, there's no way we can track him down."

"Maybe he didn't. Maybe he hopped a cab, like everyone else in this city," Munch replied.

"Maybe. We know he crossed Park Avenue. Canvass the neighborhood. See if anyone spotted this guy."

* * *

**EZ Mart  
****10 E. 87****th**** Street  
Friday, April 20**

"If we don't find this guy soon, my feet are gonna fall off," Munch grumbled as he pulled open the door to the third bodega on their canvass.

"That's what happens when you get old," Fin retorted. "Your mind goes first, then your joints."

"Few more years and you'll be in the wheelchair right next to me, my friend."

The blonde teenager at the counter didn't even glance up as the two detectives approached him. His head bobbed up and down in time with the beat of the heavy-metal music streaming through his headphones.

"Hey," Fin said loudly.

The teen didn't even look up.

"Hey!" Fin banged on the counter with his fist, and the kid jumped.

"What the hell?" he muttered as he pulled his headphones out of his ears.

Munch flashed his badge at the teen. "I'm Detective Munch, this is Detective Tutuola. We have some questions we want to ask you."

"Dude. Is that real?"

"Yeah, it is," Fin answered, shooting his partner a quick glance.

"How can I help you, Detectives?"

"We're looking for this guy." Munch shoved the picture from the jewelry store security at the kid.

He squinted for a minute, then glanced up at the detectives. "Not exactly the greatest picture in the world."

"Did anyone come in here with big black duffel bag?" Fin asked.

The boy thought for a minute and nodded. "Yeah, I remember him. Came in this morning around eight or so, bought a pack of donuts."

"Cash or credit?"

"Cash."

"Damn," Munch muttered. He sighed and lifted his frustrated eyes toward the ceiling. Suddenly he narrowed his eyes. In the corner facing the counter was a security camera, its red recording light blinking every couple of seconds. "Is there any way we can get those security tapes?"

* * *

When Elliot and Olivia returned from canvassing the neighborhood, they found their fellow detectives huddled together in front of the computerized board next to the desks. "Find anything?" Olivia asked as they joined Munch and Fin.

"Only half a dozen teenage kids buying boxes of condoms," Fin answered. "I swear, one of those kids couldn't've been older than fourteen."

"Kids today," Elliot replied with a grin.

"Well, if I have to watch one more security tape, I'm gonna go crazy." Munch rubbed his head.

"Too late," Fin shot back.

"Hey, what was that?" Olivia pointed at the screen, her brow furrowed. "Go back a couple frames."

Munch hit a couple of keys on the keyboard, and the tape whirred as it rewound.

"Stop!" Olivia ordered.

The frame froze.

"Go forward."

Shooting a strange look at his colleague, Munch hit a couple of keys, and the video slowly moved forward. All four detectives leaned forward, intently gazing at the screen.

"There!" Olivia shouted, pointing at the screen.

Munch hit the pause button, and the screen froze again.

"Well I'll be damned," Fin muttered.

A man stood at the counter, a large black duffel bag slung over his shoulder and his head covered by a black baseball cap. Every detail of his thin face could be clearly seen on the tape.

Elliot allowed a slow smile to spread across his face and hit a key. The computer zoomed in on his face. "We got him."

"Yeah, but keep watching." Olivia reached over and hit a key. In slow motion, their suspect handed the cashier some bills, grabbed his bag, and walked out the door. The detectives watched intently as the suspect held up his hand. A bright yellow cab pulled up next to the curb, and their suspect quickly opened the door.

"There goes our suspect," Elliot muttered.

Fin reached over and paused the tape. He hit another couple of keys, and the tape zoomed in to the door of the cab. "And there goes the medallion number. ZL165."

Olivia grabbed her jacket off the back of the desk chair, Elliot close on her heels. "We're on it."

* * *

**NYC Taxi and Limousine Commission  
Friday, April 20**

"Can I help you?" The uniformed taxi dispatcher barely looked up as Elliot and Olivia entered her office.

"NYPD," Elliot replied, flashing his badge. "I'm Detective Stabler, and my partner, Detective Benson."

She glanced at the badge and gave him an overly-friendly smile. "How can I help the NYPD?"

"Who's the hack for medallion number ZL165?"

The dispatcher narrowed her eyes slightly. "What's this all about?"

"We just need to ask him a couple of questions," Olivia said smoothly. "His name?"

She stared at the detectives for a moment, then turned to her computer and hit a couple of keys. The machine beeped at her, and she leaned forward a little in her chair. "Mike Kolinsky."

"He workin' today?" Elliot asked.

The dispatcher checked the log in front of her and nodded. "Yep. He's out on a call now."

"Call him back."

Her eyebrows went up nearly to her hairline. "What?"

"You heard him," Olivia said. "Call him back."

"And tell him to bring his log," Elliot added.

Twenty minutes later, a tall, mustached man knocked on the dispatcher's glass door and pushed it open. "You wanted to see me, Boss?" he asked in a deep baritone, shifting the large book from his right hand to his left.

"Actually, these guys wanted to see you," she said as she motioned to Elliot and Olivia, who were leaning against the opposite wall.

"What's going on?" Kolinsky asked.

"You're Mike Kolinsky?" Elliot inquired, ignoring the question.

"Yeah. Who're you?"

Elliot pulled out his badge again. "Detectives Stabler and Benson, Special Victims Unit. You picked up a fare today outside the EZ Mart on East Eighty-Seventh Street?"

Kolinsky flipped open his log and scanned it for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah, I did."

Olivia showed him the picture they printed from the security video. "This him?"

The cabbie studied the picture and nodded. "Yeah, that's him. Acted kinda strange. I figured it was because he wasn't from around here."

"What makes you say that?" Elliot queried, his interest piqued.

"Had a funny accent. Sounded almost German, but not quite, like there was a little bit of a Spanish accent. I tried asking him about it, but he didn't say a thing for the whole damn ride after he told me where he was goin'."

Elliot and Olivia shared a look. "Where'd you drop him off?" Olivia asked.

"Uh…" Kolinsky checked his log again. "318 Wyckoff Street. Looked like some kind of apartment building or somethin'."

Elliot's phone chirped at him, and he excused himself to answer it.

"Did he have anything with him?" Olivia asked as she scribbled down the address in her notepad.

"A big black bag. I offered to put it in the trunk, but he told me no. He kept it pretty close."

Elliot rejoined his partner and nudged her shoulder. "Cap wants us back at the house," he said quietly. "Something happened."

Olivia nodded and thanked Kolinsky. The cabbie shrugged. "Anything to help the boys in blue. My dad was a cop."

The detectives smiled gratefully and walked out of the dispatcher's office. "What happened?" Olivia asked quietly when they stepped outside into the bright spring sunlight.

"He wouldn't say. But he sure sounded pissed."

"Another attack?"

"Don't think so. But it must be some sort of development."

"Did you tell him we had the address?"

Elliot nodded. "He said this was more important at the moment." He walked around the car to the driver's side door and glanced at his partner over the roof of the vehicle. "Whatever it is, I hope it gets us closer to this son of a bitch."

* * *

Joseph Adolphus checked his watch for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. He knew the cops would find him soon. It was only a matter of time. From what he'd heard, the NYPD had their best detectives on the case. It didn't matter. If he stayed free, he would be able to carry out more of his work. If he was caught, he would be a martyr for the cause. Others would stand up and take charge. He knew that some Americans believed the same things he did. He'd seen the video from that school in Colorado, with the two boys. Others would follow.

Gingerly he attached the final piece of his grand masterpiece. This morning had just been a rehearsal. This wouldn't rid the city of all the Jews, but it would certainly be more effective than his sniper rifle. And it would so infuriate the city, he'd be sure to be able to present his views to the world. He would convince others to continue the war.

The day had been busy. After the cabbie dropped him off at his apartment, he walked the four blocks to the subway station back into Manhattan. He was on a strict schedule, so there was no time to stop for anything there. He hopped off the train near One Police Plaza to deliver his note for the detectives working the case. Then he hopped back on the subway to Brooklyn so he could finish before tonight.

He checked his watch one more time. He'd better move it.

Adolphus gently picked it up and carefully placed it into the black duffel bag. He was fairly sure it wouldn't go off before it was time, but there was no need to take any risks.

Again he looked at his watch and smiled. Five minutes ahead of schedule.

Time to take this war to the next level.

* * *

**Precinct 16  
Friday, April 20**

"Cap, what's going on?" Elliot practically shouted as soon as he and Olivia entered the squad room. "We've got a perfectly good – "

He trailed off when he saw a familiar scowling face sitting between Cragen and Munch. The Chief of Detectives didn't look amused at Elliot's outburst.

"This can't be good," Olivia whispered to her partner.

Elliot didn't reply. He was too busy studying the faces of his coworkers. Cragen leaned against Munch's desk, his expression solemn. Munch wasn't cracking jokes. In fact, Elliot couldn't remember a time he'd seen the seasoned detective so serious. Fin's face mirrored his partner's.

"What's going on, sir?" he asked.

Cragen sighed and stood. Elliot's eyes traveled to his right hand, which was clutching a piece of white paper. "This was delivered to One PP," Cragen said, waving the paper. "We've got a problem."

Olivia narrowed her coffee-colored eyes. "What?"

Her boss silently handed Elliot the letter.

Olivia watched as her partner's blue eyes widened as they skimmed the typed letter. His jaw was clenched, like it always did when he was angry. "El?" she ventured.

His hand shook with rage as he handed it to her. Confused, she took it from him and immediately gasped. She couldn't believe it.

'_This is my formal declaration of war on the Zionist-controlled city of New York and the Christ-killers. This morning was just the beginning. Soon, the city streets will run red with Jewish blood. Fire will consume their women and children._

_Heil Hitler.'_

* * *

**A/N: **Sorry about the lack of C/E interaction in this chapter. I wanted them to make headway on the case. I promise I'll make up for it later.

On another note, thanks so much for all the positive feedback I've gotten on this story. I really, really, really, really appreciate it. I know it's a little different, and I was worried about the kind of reception I would get. But ya'll have been absolutely wonderful. My goal was to take an episode like "RAW" and take it to the next level, with a little bit of a history lesson in there (which, coincidentally, comes with the next chapter).

Let me know what you think of this chapter!


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **Thanks so much for your wonderful reviews! I'm really glad you're enjoying this... I certainly enjoyed writing it. Well, about as much as a person can enjoy the subject matter. Let me know what you think about this next one too! This is where a lot of the research I did comes in.

**Shannon**: Sorry I couldn't reply to your review. I'm glad you liked it. Hopefully this chapter will answer your question about Munch's reaction to what's going on. I always pictured him as really calm, even when it came to something like this. Even in "RAW" he stayed pretty cool about the whole situation. Anyways, I hope this answers it a little better for you.

* * *

**Chapter 5**

**Precinct 16  
Friday, April 20**

"I don't like this, Elliot." Dr. George Huang folded his arms across his chest and leaned against Munch's desk.

"I don't like it either," Munch retorted. "I don't like my people being cut down in schoolyards like this is some sort of throwback to World War II."

"That's not what I'm referring to, John," the dapper Chinese-American psychiatrist answered calmly. "I don't like how everything is too neat, too tidy."

"How often do we get a case like this?" Olivia asked. "The evidence is overwhelming. We have his face on tape leaving the scene of the crime. The cabbie can positively ID him."

"I know. And that's exactly what I'm talking about." Out of his peripheral vision, he saw Casey enter the squad room and stop at Elliot's side. The detective looked over, gave her a half-smile, and moved over so she could lean up against his desk. Huang had guessed a while back that they were involved in a relationship, but they were careful to keep it out of the office, so he had nothing solid.

"Maybe he was just stupid," Fin interjected.

Huang shook his head patiently. "I don't think so. This attack was carefully planned, down to the last detail. He meticulously made sure no one saw his face until he stopped at the EZ mart. It's almost as if he was leading us to him, almost like he wanted to be caught."

"Who in his right mind would want to be caught?" Casey asked incredulously.

"I said 'almost'. It's not that he _wants _to be caught," Huang answered. "He just doesn't _mind_ being caught."

"Is he trying to go for some sort of insanity thing?" Elliot asked.

Olivia nodded in agreement. "To be neo-Nazi these days, you'd have to be crazy."

"I don't think he is neo-Nazi."

Cragen furrowed his brow at their shrink. "Did we read the same letter?"

"His rhetoric isn't neo-Nazi. He doesn't lambast the city for supporting African-Americans, Hispanics, or gays. He lambasts the city for supporting Jews. Hitler killed quite a bit of the other groups, including Slavs, but he mostly targeted Jews. Over six million Jews died in the Holocaust, the most out of any group of people persecuted by Hitler. Notice also how he ends the letter."

"'Heil Hitler.'" Munch snorted disdainfully. "He's obviously got a flair for the melodramatic."

"In _Mein Kampf_, Hitler blamed the Jews for the problems of Germany after World War I. He used insults like 'Christ-killers' when he was carrying out his pogroms throughout the country. This guy is using the exact same rhetoric, the exact same insults. I think he's more than a neo-Nazi. I think he might be the real deal, or at the very least trained by the real deal."

Elliot furrowed his brow. "It's been a while since my high school history class, but I thought true Nazism in the United States died out after Hitler's death and reawakened just before the Civil Rights Movement."

"In the United States, it did. But Hitler's brand of fascism wasn't limited to Germany and Italy. Spain was fascist, and as was most of South America. Your cabbie said that he had a mix of a German and Spanish accent. A lot of Nazis escaped to Spain and South America after World War II to evade being charged with war crimes, because of their sympathetic governments."

"Israel captured Adolf Eichmann in Argentina in the sixties," Munch added.

Huang nodded. "He wasn't the only one. Eva Peron and her husband openly supported Hitler's regime. Josef Mengele fled to Brazil and died in the seventies under an assumed name. Hundreds of Nazis made new lives in Argentina and Brazil after World War II. Because of his accent and the wording of the letter, I think your guy might be a descendant of one of them."

Elliot opened his mouth to say something, but his phone interrupted him. "Stabler," he answered it.

"No offense, Doc," Casey said, shaking her head. "I'm finding a lot of this hard to believe. A true Nazi in New York? It's something straight out of _The Boys from Brazil_."

"It does seem a little fantastic," Cragen agreed.

Huang gave them a knowing smile. "I think that when you do find him, he won't put up much of a fight. Being charged with these crimes makes him a martyr to those that believe the same things he does. He'll have the perfect forum to make his ideologies known. He's a narcissist. He's convinced he's right, and he wants everyone to know it. He believes that he's starting a war against the Jews. The thing about starting a war is that you have to convince others that it's a good cause, or no one will support it."

"That was the lab," Elliot said, replacing his phone on the cradle. "They have something for us."

He glanced at Casey as he grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair. She didn't say anything, but her eyes spoke louder than words. _Be careful_, those green-blue orbs shouted at him. Elliot gave his girlfriend a reassuring smile as he shrugged on his jacket. He loved that she was so concerned about him.

"Call me when you find something," she said quietly as Olivia joined them.

"Of course," he answered. With one last smile, they disappeared down the corridor.

* * *

**Crime Lab  
One Police Plaza  
Friday, April 20**

"We managed to lift some prints off the letter you sent us," O'Halloran explained to Elliot and Olivia as they followed him through the crime lab.

"How many sets?" Olivia asked, nearly running into the lab tech when he stopped in front of a computer.

"Four. We eliminated three of them – Chief of D's, your boss, and Elliot."

Elliot leaned against the desk. "Great. What about the fourth?"

O'Halloran sighed and sank into the chair. "Nothing from AFIS." He hit a couple of keys on the keyboard, and the scanned print appeared on the computer screen.

Olivia frowned thoughtfully. Suddenly an idea hit her, and her head jerked up to look Elliot in the eyes. "Didn't the cabbie say something about the guy having a weird accent?"

The CSU tech raised his eyebrows at the two detectives. "I'll run it through Immigration." He hit a couple more keys, and the computer began scanning through the thousands of prints in the INS's database. Within minutes, the computer bleeped at him. O'Halloran leaned forward as the software brought up a photo. "Joseph Adolphus. Immigrated a year ago from Argentina under a professional permanent resident visa. Lives in Brooklyn."

"Let me guess," Elliot said. "318 Wyckoff Street?"

"How'd you know?" The tech turned in his seat, eyebrows raised again.

"Lucky guess."

"Hey Elliot." Olivia nudged her partner's shoulder and gestured to the picture on the screen. "Look familiar?"

Elliot narrowed his eyes and studied the photo. Lean face, bright blue eyes, dark hair… his eyes immediately widened. "It can't be." He pulled out the security camera photo from his jacket pocket and held it up next to the monitor. "It's him," he said with a sigh.

Olivia pulled out her phone. "I'll call Novak for a warrant."

* * *

**Office of ADA Casey Novak  
Friday, April 20**

"Judge Bradley signed off on the warrant," Casey said as she handed Olivia the signed blue-backed legal paper. "Lucky for us, he was just as outraged by this shooting as we were."

"Have you talked to the Argentinean embassy?" Olivia asked as she took the warrant from the attorney's hand.

"They're giving me the runaround. I did talk with our embassy in Buenos Aires and explained our situation. Apparently, stuff like this has been going on down there since after World War II, mini-pogroms all over South America. Our embassy pulled documentation a couple of years ago when the Argentineans refused to give the names of the Nazis they helped escape from Europe. They'll get back to me in a couple of hours. Meantime, you guys go pick up our favorite Nazi bastard and bring him in before he shoots someone else."

Olivia nodded and grinned at the fiery ADA. "Got it." She turned around to head out the door, but immediately noticed that Elliot wasn't behind her. "Coming, El?" she asked, looking over her shoulder.

"Give me a minute." Olivia hesitated, and he raised his eyebrow at her. "Just a minute."

A smirk slowly spread across her face, and she looked back and forth between the blushing attorney and glowering detective. "I'll meet you in the car," she said, coughing to hide her laugh.

Elliot waited until his partner disappeared around the corner before he turned to face Casey. "You okay?" he asked. "I know I haven't talked to you much today."

"You're on a case." Casey smiled. "I know how you get when you're on a case."

"How do I get?"

"Brooding."

Elliot laughed and stepped closer to her. "What was with that look back in the squadroom?"

Casey sighed. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For being overly concerned. I know you can take care of yourself."

Elliot took another step closer to her. By now, he was within about six inches of her. "Yeah, I can. But I like it when you're concerned," he said seriously. "I'm glad to know you care enough to be concerned."

"Of course I do," she replied softly. "It's just…" She sighed. "Huang's good. If he says that this guy doesn't mind getting caught, I believe him. But if he's wrong…"

"Casey," Elliot said gently. He reached up and tenderly brushed her cheek with the back of his fingers. "I'll be fine. Liv'll watch my back, Munch and Fin'll be there, and we'll go in full force."

"I know. I just don't know what I'd do if something happened to you."

Elliot stared at her for a minute. She'd never been that open with him before, even in the past three months. She'd never admitted she worried about him. It scared him and thrilled him at the same time. He was falling for her – hard. Harder than he'd ever fallen.

"Elliot?"

Her voice jerked him back from his reverie. He looked her in the eyes and smiled again. "I don't know what I'd do if something happened to you, either," he said softly. "I'm glad you're worried about me."

"Yeah, well, you're alone in that sentiment."

He chuckled low in his throat and glanced around. It was nearly ten at night, and the DA's office was, for the most part, deserted. Satisfied that there was no one around, he leaned in and brushed his lips against hers. He couldn't resist twining his arms around her waist to pull her closer to him when he felt her respond.

Casey's moan rumbled through his lips, and she gently skimmed his lips with her tongue as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He acquiesced to her demand and parted his lips, letting her probe his mouth gently. It was by far the most passionate kiss they'd shared in a public place.

Finally he pulled back, smiling from ear to ear, as was she. Casey's lips were swollen from his kiss, and her blue-green orbs shined. "You should probably get moving," she whispered, suppressing a shiver as he ran his fingers through her strawberry-blonde hair.

"Yeah, Liv's probably getting impatient."

Casey snorted at that. "Probably." She leaned forward and gently kissed him one more time. "See you at the precinct when you get back with the Nazi bastard."

Elliot smiled again and shook his head. She could be so blunt at times. "See you then."

He found Olivia waiting for him in the lobby by the door. She grinned at his quizzical look. "Forgot you have the keys," she explained. Her grin widened at his chuckle.

Elliot pushed open the door and followed his partner out toward their car. His mind was whirling. Lately his feelings for Casey had changed dramatically. He hadn't fallen hard in a long time. Hell, he hadn't even had feelings like these for Kathy in their twenty-plus years of marriage.

"So have you told her yet?"

Olivia's voice startled him, and his head jerked to the left to look her in the eyes. "Told her what?"

"That you love her."

Elliot frowned as he fished the car keys out of his pockets. "What makes you think that I love her?"

"That look on your face right now."

He hated that she knew him so well. "I don't know if I do," he said quietly, inserting the key into the door lock.

Olivia snorted and opened the passenger-side door. "C'mon, El. You practically live at her place. Your kids love her. Hell, even Kathy likes her. Your face brightens up so much when she walks into the room it's like looking into the sun."

Elliot sighed and slid into the driver's seat. He stuck the key into the ignition and turned to look at Olivia. "Okay. Maybe I do love her. She's the best thing that's happened to me in a long time. What if she doesn't feel the same way?"

"She does," Olivia replied gently. "You need to tell her. I'd hate to see you lose this chance. Like you said, she's the best thing that's happened to you in a long time."

He stared at his partner for a minute, absorbing her words. "Yeah. You're right," he said quietly as he turned the ignition.

* * *

**318 Wyckoff Street  
Brooklyn  
Friday, April 20**

"Find anything on that computer yet?" Elliot asked their TARU tech Reuben Morales, who was bent over Joseph Adolphus's laptop in his Brooklyn apartment.

Morales shook his head. "It's all encrypted. I'll have to get it back to the lab."

Olivia reached over Morales's shoulder to pick up a picture sitting innocently on the desk. It was an old black-and-white photo of a scowling man in a dapper uniform. "Hey, Elliot, check this out."

Her partner maneuvered around the kitchen counter to join her in the living room. He reached out and gently took the photo from Olivia's hands. "Those are SS insignias," he said quietly, tracing the outlines of the lightning bolts on the man's lapels.

"Relative?"

"Looks a lot like our guy."

"Check out what we found in the bedroom." Elliot and Olivia turned at the sound of Munch's voice and saw him enter the living room from the hallway, Fin on his heels. He held up a long sniper rifle, complete with a scope.

A low whistle escaped Elliot. "Damn. That's a lot of firepower."

"A lot of firepower that's been recently used." Munch sniffed the barrel. "Been fired recently."

"Ballistics should give us a match to the slug from Isaiah Jaslow," Olivia said with a slight smile.

"That's not all we found back there," Fin said. He held up a copy of _Mein Kampf_.

Elliot snorted in disgust. "A little light reading?"

"And we found a pair of boots." Munch held up the dark combat boots. "Man's size ten."

"What's going on here?!"

The three detectives whirled around to see a tall, thin, dark-haired man with a dark duffel bag standing in the doorway, his hands on his hips and a furious expression in his blue eyes. "Joseph Adolphus?" Elliot asked, knowing full well what the answer would be.

"Yes. What are you doing here?" Adolphus asked in a thick accent. His eyes fell on Munch and hardened even more.

"Executing a search warrant," Olivia replied, showing him the legal document.

"Is this your rifle?" Munch inquired, holding up the rifle in one gloved hand.

"Yes. What is this all about?"

"Shooting in Manhattan earlier this morning. Two little boys were killed, and a rifle a lot like this was used."

Adolphus's eyes narrowed again. "I do not think I should say anything else. Especially to you, Jew."

Munch's eyes hardened behind his dark glasses, but he kept his cool.

Elliot grinned mirthlessly. "Well, that's fine by us. Joseph Adolphus, you're under arrest on two counts of murder. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do will be held against you –"

"Hey guys."

They glanced up to see O'Halloran standing in the hallway, a concerned look on his features.

"There's something you need to see."

The four detectives and the handcuffed Adolphus made their way to the spare bedroom. O'Halloran stood in the middle of the room, two more CSU techs flanking him. "What is it?" Olivia asked. She didn't like the look on his face.

"We found traces of ammonium nitrate and fuel oil in these bags." He gestured to two bags leaning inconspicuously against the far wall.

"Those make big booms," Fin said, his eyes widening.

Munch glared at the smiling Adolphus. "What the hell did you do?"

"Beginning a war," he sneered.

Olivia disappeared down the hall and quickly returned with Adolphus's black bag. "What're we going to find in here?" she asked, shoving the bag under Adolphus's nose.

Silence.

"Get him outta here," Elliot growled, shoving the still-smiling perp toward two uniformed officers.

O'Halloran bent over the bag and quickly unzipped it. A white, powdery substance coated the inside lining. He swallowed hard and looked up at the concerned detectives. "Ammonium nitrate. This bag held a homemade bomb."

Olivia looked up at her colleagues, dark eyes wide. "It could be anywhere in the city."

"The war has just begun," Munch whispered.

* * *

**A/N2**: Casey references _The Boys from Brazil_ in the chapter, and I wasn't sure how many of you have heard of that movie. If you get a chance to see it, it's an interesting plotline. In the movie (made in the late '70s), Josef Mengele manages to create 95 clones of Hitler and place them throughout the world in hopes of restarting the Third Reich, forcing a famous Nazi hunter to stop him again. The movie isn't even close to real life, but it's interesting nonetheless.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **Wow. I'm incredibly surprised at the response for this story. To be honest, I wasn't expecting many reviews, but ya'll have completely blown away all my expectations. You're all amazing. I mean that from the bottom of my heart. This wouldn't be what it is without you guys. Hope you guys like this chapter too. I love writing interrogation scenes. I hope it's somewhat realistic. Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 6**

**Precinct 16  
Saturday, April 21**

"Shit, shit, shit," Elliot muttered to himself as he watched Adolphus through the one-way. The smug bastard lounged in the hard wooden chair, just staring at his reflection in the mirror. He seemed awfully cool for someone who was about to replicate the Oklahoma City bombing.

He checked his watch. It was a little after three in the morning. They didn't even know how much time they had left, where the bomb was, where it could even possibly be. They would have to break him down. And Elliot could tell that would not be an easy task.

A knock sounded at the door, and he turned to see Cragen, Casey, and Huang file into the observation room. "Liv, Munch, and Fin are retracing his steps and TARU's going through his computer," Cragen updated him, sighing tiredly.

"Any luck on getting a hold of the Argentinean embassy?"

Casey nodded. "There's no record of a Joseph Adolphus from Buenos Aires. The Argentineans believe that he's using an assumed identity."

"We already knew that!" Elliot's voice rose a couple of decibels.

"I had his fingerprints faxed to our embassy in Buenos Aires," she replied calmly. "If he's out there, they'll find him."

"In the meantime, we have to break him," Cragen interjected. "Unless we get a break from his computer or the papers he kept in his office, people are going to die."

Elliot nodded. "Great. So what do I need to know?"

"He's a narcissist," Huang said thoughtfully. "He believes that his race is better than every other race on the planet, particularly the Jews, and he certainly believes that he's smarter than the police. He was raised to hate by some authority figure he admires, and his aim is to please that authority figure. He'll ignore any laws or rules to do just that. You need to play to that."

"Right." Elliot nodded again and moved toward the door. "Got it."

"One more thing. I think Casey should be in there for the interview."

A stunned silence settled over the group. Casey and Elliot stared at Huang, wide-eyed.

"Me?" Casey asked, incredulous.

"No." Elliot shook his head and glared at the diminutive psychiatrist. "Absolutely not."

"Casey fits his ideal of the perfect Aryan woman. Blonde, thin, blue-eyed."

"Well, I'm sure she appreciates the compliment, but she's not going in there with that homicidal Nazi maniac."

"If she's asking him questions, he's more likely to open up."

"It's not gonna happen, Doc!"

"Elliot!" Casey's sudden shout startled both men, and they simultaneously turned their heads to stare at her. Her hands were on her hips and her eyes blazed. "Can I talk to you a minute? In private?"

Elliot shot one more glare in Huang's direction as Huang and Cragen stepped out into the squad room. As soon as the door shut behind them, he trained his patented glare on Casey. "There's no way in hell you're –"

"Will you shut up and listen to me for just one minute?"

His mouth shut with a snap. Elliot knew better than to argue with her when she was like that.

"I appreciate your concern for me, but you don't need to coddle me. I can take care of myself."

"I don't doubt that, but –"

"Let me finish. If me being in that interrogation room is going to help save lives and get justice for those kids, then nothing you say is going to stop me."

Elliot sighed resignedly and reached for her hand, knowing intuitively that there was no way she'd give up on this one. As he brushed against her skin, the fury in her eyes abated just a little. "I just don't trust him."

"I don't either. And that's why you're going to be in there with me. But we can't blow this." She reached up and softly touched his cheek, his early-morning stubble tickling her skin. "You have to control yourself."

He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close to him. "I don't know what I'd do if something happened to you."

"Elliot, we're in the station. Nothing's going to happen."

"I know." Elliot leaned in and brushed his lips against hers. It took all his willpower not to deepen the kiss, but they were in the station and they had to be careful. He pulled back after just a couple of seconds and looked at Casey. "Bring 'em back in?"

Casey nodded and smiled. "Sure."

* * *

**TARU Lab  
One Police Plaza  
Saturday, April 21**

"I finally managed to break the encryption on his computer. Pretty sophisticated stuff." TARU tech Ruben Morales slid his chair across his small lab to the laptop sitting innocently on one of the many desks.

"Find anything?" Fin asked, folding his arms across his chest.

"I've gone through everything, including internet searches. Your guy has a penchant for Italian food."

Munch glared over his dark glasses at Morales. "And that's supposed to help us how?"

"You didn't let me finish. In the past two days, he's done several searches for synagogues in the Brooklyn and Queens boroughs."

Fin sighed. "There's got to be a couple hundred of those. Any way to narrow that down?"

"That _is_ narrowed down."

"Damn."

Munch ran a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. "Adolphus was gone when we got there. He must've left to plant the bomb."

"BQE at that time of day? No way he got a cabbie during rush hour."

"Which means that whatever synagogue he planted it at was within walking distance from his apartment."

Morales handed Munch a piece of paper. "These are the twenty synagogues within walking distance from Adolphus's apartment."

Fin grinned at his partner. "Your skinny ol' legs gonna hold up for some walkin', partner?"

* * *

**Interrogation Room  
Precinct 16  
Saturday, April 21**

Adolphus smiled wolfishly as Elliot held the interrogation room door open for Casey. "You're too beautiful to be a cop," he said, leering at her as she pulled out the chair across from him.

"I'm not one."

"This is Assistant District Attorney Novak," Elliot said, leaning against the wall.

The other man's eyebrows went up. "An attorney. Intelligence and beauty."

"And she'll be prosecuting you for two counts of murder." Elliot folded his arms and stared at the dark-haired Argentine. "Ballistics matched your rifle to the murder weapon."

The Argentine never took his eyes off Casey. "Why don't we just send him out of here and get to know each other better? You and I could make some beautiful babies. Blonde hair, blue eyes. The perfect children."

Enraged, Elliot took one menacing step toward Adolphus, but a glare from Casey stopped him dead in his tracks.

Adolphus's gaze flicked back and forth between the attorney and the detective, and a slow smirk spread across his face. "Oh, I see. You're lovers, right?"

Casey paused a moment and took a deep breath. "Mr. Adolphus, or whatever your real name is, I'm going to give you this one-time offer. You tell us where you hid the bomb and your true identity, and I'll give you the possibility of parole in twenty-five years."

"Now where would be the fun in that, _Fraulein_ Novak?"

"So this is a game to you?" Elliot moved off the wall and pulled out the chair at the end of the table, sitting down in it backward. "Killing children is a game?"

"War is a game, Detective. I see that Marine tattoo on your forearm. You know exactly what I talk about. It's all about the thrill of the hunt, lining up that final shot, lightly squeezing the trigger. And then playing with the other side. I have you two running around in circles trying to find out who I really am, trying to figure out how many Jews I will kill with a little ammonium nitrate and fuel oil."

"Maybe we don't know what your real identity is." Elliot opened his manila folder and tossed a picture on the table. It was the picture of the SS officer from his apartment. "But I'll bet my pension it has something to do with that."

The other man's blue eyes narrowed slightly, but he said nothing.

"You know, I learned a very interesting history lesson working this case," the detective continued. "Apparently, after World War II, several hundred Nazis escaped from Germany to South America with the help of – help me out here, Casey."

"Juan and Eva Peron."

"Right. Some of the worst of these bastards made it over there, too."

Casey nodded. "Josef Mengele, the Butcher of Auschwitz, and Adolf Eichmann, the architect of the Holocaust." Suddenly, she raised her eyebrows at the silent suspect. "Joseph Adolphus?"

He still said nothing.

"Clever choice of a name," Elliot said with a grin. "Combining the first names of two of the biggest mass murderers in history." He tapped the picture with one thick finger. "I'm guessing this guy is, what, your grandfather? You're too young for him to be your father."

"Trained in hate." Casey shook her head. "You never had a chance, did you? Your grandfather probably told you all kinds of lies, about how the Holocaust never really happened. Probably told you Mengele, Eichmann, Himmler, and Hitler were all great humanitarians. All to cover up his own war crimes and his own blind bigotry."

"No!"

His shout startled both Casey and Elliot, and they stared at the fuming Argentine.

"My grandfather was a great man. He was a patriot, and he would've died defending his race against a bunch of Christ-killers and Jew-supporters!" Adolphus pointed angrily at them, his face livid. "He taught me the truth!"

"Did he teach you how to shoot a rifle like that?" Elliot asked, looking at Casey out of the corner of his eye.

"He taught my father, and my father taught me. My grandfather worked directly for the Fuhrer himself. He was a member of the SS by the time he was eighteen. He was an expert marksman."

"And he taught you how to build a bomb, too."

Adolphus sneered. "I didn't need his help for that. You Americans are so stupid. Allowing plans for bombs to be put on the internet for anyone to see."

"So where is it?" Elliot leaned forward in his chair, praying he would give it up. "We will find it. And we will find out who you really are."

"I'll even drop the hate-crime amplification on your sentence if you tell us where you hid the bomb," Casey added.

"No." Adolphus shook his head and smirked at them. "No way in hell. I am just the beginning. Once others see what I've done, once others understand that what I am doing is best for this world, they too will take up the war. We will wipe them off the face of this world – all those Jews and those that support them. I want my day in court."

Casey suppressed a shudder as the man leaned forward in his chair and stared right into her eyes. His blue orbs were cold, hard, unfeeling. He was pure evil.

"Now get me a lawyer."

* * *

Olivia looked up from her paperwork as Elliot and Casey trudged back into the squad room. "Any luck?"

Elliot shook his head and sank into his chair with a sigh. "He lawyered up."

"Good news is I should be able to convict him with no problem on the school shooting." Casey leaned against Munch's desk and ran a hand through her strawberry-blonde hair. "Heard anything from John and Fin?"

The brunette shook her head and sighed. "Nothing. They're checking the twenty or so synagogues within walking distance from Adolphus's apartment."

"Anything from the embassy in Buenos Aires?"

Olivia stood up and grabbed a sheet of paper off her desk. "They faxed me a picture," she said as she handed it to Casey. Elliot moved closer to the attorney to peer over their shoulder at the black-and-white, grainy photograph.

"It was taken in 1947 after a cargo ship from Spain docked in Buenos Aires," Olivia continued. "Only, according to our embassy down there, this ship carried twenty passengers from Europe. Now, somehow the embassy managed to get the old shipping logs from the Argentinean government."

"Probably told them hiding more Nazis wouldn't do much for their reputation in the modern world," Elliot said, glancing up at his partner.

"They already came under fire a couple of years ago for refusing to release their documentation on the Nazi relocation," Casey added, folding her arms across her chest. "They probably figured that it would be best to give it to us and avoid international embarrassment."

"Anyway, everyone that got off that ship was photographed for Argentinean immigration." Olivia grabbed another piece of paper from her desk. "This was attached to that photograph."

Elliot gently took the paper from his partner and silently skimmed it. "Johann Braun."

"That photo look familiar?"

He narrowed his eyes for a moment and studied the picture. The man's hard eyes glared back at him, unsmiling and nearly unfeeling. It looked like… Suddenly Elliot's jaw dropped, and he jerked his head up to stare wide-eyed at Olivia. "The SS officer from Adolphus's apartment."

Olivia nodded. "That was my reaction. The embassy told me that Braun was one of Hitler's rising stars at the end of his reign, a member of Hitler's personal bodyguard detail. He lived in Argentina under an assumed name for a while after the Israelis captured Adolf Eichmann, but then he went back to his German name when he lived on La Llena. He had one son, Erik, and one grandson, Wilhelm."

"And we have Wilhelm in Interrogation Room One." Casey shook her head and sighed tiredly. "At least I know what name to put on the indictment."

"The embassy will be faxing you the papers and particulars." Just then, Olivia's phone shrilled loudly, and she quickly snatched it off its hook. "Benson." She listened for a moment, and her eyes steadily widened. "We'll be right there." Hastily she replaced the receiver and grabbed her coat from the back of her desk chair.

"What's up?" Elliot asked.

"Munch and Fin found the bomb."

* * *

**Kane Street Synagogue  
Brooklyn, NY  
Saturday, April 21**

The tires on Elliot's unmarked car screeched to a halt outside the Brooklyn synagogue. The bomb squad and several black-and-whites were already there, holding back the throng of curious onlookers that had already gathered there.

Fin and Munch jogged up to the sedan just as Elliot and Olivia stepped out of the car. "What happened?" Olivia asked as a couple of bomb squad officers dashed past them.

"The rabbi forgot something for his Sabbath service down in the basement," Fin answered, leading his colleagues toward the building. "Found the device attached to the water heater."

"Set to go off at nine this morning," Munch continued. "Exactly when the service was scheduled to start."

"Son of a bitch," Elliot muttered.

"These guys should be thanking their lucky stars," the bomb squad sergeant shouted at them as he walked toward the four detectives. The tired officer shrugged off his protective vest and helmet as he stopped in front of them. "There was enough ammonium nitrate in that little sucker to take out the entire block."

"Is it disarmed?"

"Yeah. Not an incredibly complex device. It was wired to a clock timer, which would've lit the fuse and blown the place to smithereens."

"Would it've taken expertise to build?" Munch asked.

"Let me put it this way, Detective. Even you could've put it together." The sergeant flashed a grin at them and walked off.

Olivia sighed and glanced at her partner. "Think we could convince Novak to add a hundred counts of attempted murder to the indictment?"

Elliot didn't answer. Instead, he pulled out his keys and dashed toward the car.

"Elliot?" Olivia called as Fin and Munch stared after him, dumbfounded. "Elliot!"

The car door slammed shut with a bang, and the engine roared to life. Elliot stomped on the accelerator and burned rubber, not even looking back at his stunned colleagues.

* * *

**Precinct 16 Interrogation Room  
Saturday, April 21**

Wilhelm Braun, also known as Joseph Adolphus, looked up as the door to the interrogation room flew open. "Detective Stabler," he said with a smile as Elliot stalked into the room. "This is a strange place for you to be. The clock is still ticking."

"The only clock that's still ticking is the one on your life," Elliot growled.

Braun's eyebrows went up. "You found it." He leaned back in his chair and grinned. "Congratulations, Detective. I hope that means I'll be seeing your beautiful attorney again soon. You should call her. We can have a little… fun."

Elliot's thin hold on his self-control snapped. He flung the chair across the room and grabbed the front of Braun's shirt, hauling him up from his seat. "You son of a bitch," he hissed, his face livid. "You go near her, and I swear to God I'll kill you."

"Does she know you're like this, Detective? That you're a ticking time bomb?"

He chuckled mirthlessly and grabbed Braun's chin with his free hand. "You know somethin'? I wish New York still had the death penalty. So I could watch them stick that needle in your arm. I might be a ticking time bomb, but you're a coward."

His grip on Braun's shirt tightened, and his blue eyes blazed with a fury he'd never known. "A coward. You survive on hate for a people you know nothing about. You didn't have the guts to tell your grandfather that he was an irrational, murdering pig. You kill children from a thousand feet away." Elliot moved his face even closer to the smirking killer, so close that his nose was an inch from Braun's. "I'd take a time bomb over a piece of crap like you any day."

"Detective!"

Elliot turned his head to see Rebecca Balthus standing in the doorway, hands on her hips and a furious expression on her face.

"Something wrong here?" she asked in her usual sardonic tone.

"Not at all, Counselor," he replied. He gave Braun one last glare before he released his grip on the shirt.

"Good. If you don't mind, my client's invoked his right to remain silent."

Without so much as a glance back, Elliot walked toward the door and stopped right in front of the still-glaring attorney. "I hope you have something big in that bag of crap you pull, Balthus. Your client's gonna need it."


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** I know I keep saying this, but you guys truly are amazing. This is the most-reviewed story I've ever written, and I have all of you to thank for that. Honestly. This story will have one more chapter after this one, and then... well, who knows? I'm currently working on an original fic. So we'll see how that goes. Let me know what you think of this chapter!

**Shannon**: Thanks so much for your review! I love that you picked up on the title: It's my favorite James Taylor song too. I guess this chapter would be the closest to matching up to the words of the song, but I don't know how much it has to do with the plot. I pick titles based on songs I really like or songs that I can hear as part of a soundtrack to it. And this just happened to be the one that I could picture as part of the soundtrack. :D Thanks again!

* * *

**Chapter 7**

**Arraignment  
Part 42  
Monday, April 23**

"Docket ending one-two-eight-seven, People versus Wilhelm Braun, also known as Joseph Adolphus. Charge is two counts of murder in the first degree, fifty counts of attempted murder in the first degree."

"How does the defendant plead?" Judge Lena Petrovsky asked in a bored monotone, barely looking up from her desk.

"Not guilty," Braun answered loudly.

"What a surprise. People on bail, Ms. Novak?"

Casey looked up from her file and rested her hands on the sides of the podium. "The People request remand, Your Honor."

"Your Honor," Rebecca Balthus interrupted, shooting a condescending look in Casey's direction, "my client is a legal resident of this country, has a solid job in a well-known financial company, and has never been in trouble with the law."

"The defendant entered the United States under an assumed name, brutally gunned down two small children at a Hebrew school in Manhattan, and tried to blow up a synagogue in Brooklyn," Casey argued. "He's a dangerous man, hell-bent on re-enacting the Final Solution here in New York. Bail should be a moot point."

"Pure rhetoric, Your Honor," Balthus returned.

"It's evidence, Ms. Balthus." Petrovsky sighed and looked back and forth between the two women. "Defendant is remanded without bail. Fifteen minute recess." She banged her gavel, the sound echoing through the courtroom.

Braun looked over at Casey and winked at her. "Nice work, baby," he said softly as he passed her. She just glared at him contemptuously.

Balthus watched as her client was led away by two court officers, then turned to Casey. "Cards on the table, Casey."

The ADA shoved her legal pad into her briefcase and stepped away from her podium. "I have an airtight case against your client. He murdered two little boys and tried to kill another fifty."

"That doesn't mean he doesn't deserve some consideration."

"I offered him a deal. He told us where the bomb was, I'd consider the possibility of parole. But your client turned it down. So now, I'm going to make sure that he's at least ninety years old before he's ever considered for parole. His corrections officers' parents haven't even been born yet."

"Casey, you know he's just using this trial as a platform for his views. Now, normally I wouldn't object, but you know as well as I do that we're heading down a dangerous road here."

"I'm not willing to offer a deal to a man who gunned down two children in cold blood. And even if I happened to think your client deserved an offer, there's no way in hell my boss would sign off on it."

Balthus shrugged. "Suit yourself. But when this courtroom turns into a circus, I won't say I told you so." She glanced behind her, and her patented smirk slowly spread across her face. "By the way, your boyfriend wants to talk to you."

Casey looked past the shorter woman to see Elliot standing in the gallery, patiently waiting for her. She sighed and glared at Balthus. The legal aid lawyer slid past her and disappeared into the crowd of people.

"Hey," Elliot said with a smile as Casey walked up to him.

"Walk with me." She grabbed his arm and gently pulled him toward the door as the clerk shouted out another docket number.

"What did Balthus want?" he asked as she led him through the door and into the bustling lobby outside.

"A deal."

"You're not going to give it to her, are you?" He stopped suddenly and pulled her toward the wall. "Casey, this guy's evil. We have him cold, everything legal for once."

"I know." She gently touched his arm. "I'm not offering him one. But there is something else I want to talk to you about."

He raised his eyebrows and grinned. "We, uh, could talk about it at home."

Casey chuckled and shook her head. "Tempting, but not right now. I'm going to use Munch in the trial."

Elliot's grin slowly disappeared. "What?"

"Elliot, Balthus knows about us. She walked in on us practically making out in my office. If I put you on the stand, she'll ask you about our relationship."

"It's not prohibited."

"No, it's not, but do you really want the jury to infer that the case has been biased?"

"You can take care of that."

"I could try, but I'd rather not take the risk." She stepped closer to him and lowered her voice. "Besides, I thought we agreed that we'd tell everyone when we were ready. Do you really want them to find out about our relationship like this? And have it become public record?"

Elliot sighed. As much as he hated it, she was right. Again. "I guess you have a point."

Casey softly put her hand on his arm. "I don't like it any more than you do. But we have to be careful with this one."

"I know." A slow grin suddenly split his face. "Do we still get to go home together?"

She chuckled. "You didn't really think I'd let Rebecca Balthus get in the way of _that_, did you?"

* * *

**Apartment of Casey Novak  
Thursday, May 17**

Casey sighed and rubbed her exhausted eyes. It was nearly midnight, and she was seated at her kitchen table surrounded by law books, case files, pictures, and legal pads. The Braun case had gone smoothly thus far. Munch was terrific on the stand as usual, and the jury had listened intently at the testimony from an Argentinean ambassador about Braun's nefarious heritage. O'Halloran had testified about the rifle and bomb, wrapping up the case for the People nicely.

The defense only had one witness – Braun himself.

And Casey was going to nail him to the wall with his own words.

So she really didn't know why she was up at midnight the night before he testified. It would be an open-and-shut case. The evidence was solid.

But she wanted to make sure. She couldn't afford to lose this one, even on some small technicality.

"Hey."

She turned around to see a sleepy, bare-chested Elliot standing in her bedroom doorway. "Hey," she returned with a smile.

"Are you coming to bed?"

Casey looked at her papers, then looked back at Elliot. She gave him a small smile and shook her head, her ponytail coming to rest on her shoulder. "I think I'll work a little while longer."

He yawned and walked up behind her, his large hands gently gripping her shoulders. "You should get some sleep." His lips brushed against her bare neck, and she giggled when his stubble tickled her cheek. "It's past your bedtime."

"I'll come in a little while."

"You're going to string him up by his balls, baby." He softly nibbled her earlobe. "We have an airtight case."

"I just want to be sure." She couldn't concentrate with him this close to her, his hot breath on her neck. Casey could feel arousal shoot through her veins like heroin.

"Well, you're sure not going to be able to do anything when you're tired."

"You're going to need to stop turning me on, then. Or I'll never get any sleep."

Elliot chuckled and massaged her shoulders with his fingers. "You know, you're something special."

"Mmm, I do what I can. Now you need to stop putting me to sleep so I can get some work done."

"Okay, okay." He released her shoulders and pressed one last kiss into her hair. "By the way, I'm really glad you said yes all those months ago."

Casey looked over her shoulder at him and smiled. "Me too." She tilted her head up a little, and Elliot gently kissed her lips. "Don't wait up."

"Don't stay up too late."

* * *

**Trial, Part 46  
Friday, May 18**

Casey and Elliot flashed their badges at the court officer and squeezed past the metal detectors. "You didn't come to bed until after one last night," Elliot said quietly.

"I was trying to prep. Braun's a slippery character."

"Somehow I doubt he's going to slip out of this one. Especially with one of the finest DA's in the city prosecuting him."

She smiled. "Thanks for the compliment. Like I told you last night, I just wanted to be sure." Suddenly she felt someone jostle her, and she glanced up to see a handsome blonde man with a briefcase next to her.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," he apologized quickly.

"No worries," she replied with a smile. Her smile widened as the blonde man held open the door for her and Elliot. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." His smile never faltered, even as Elliot glared at him as he passed through the doorway.

"Jerk," Elliot muttered, following Casey toward the front.

"Jealous." Casey grinned at him.

"I just don't like guys hitting on my girl."

"He was being polite."

"Yeah, well, I think he had something else on his mind other than politeness."

Casey chuckled. "You're cute when you're jealous." She glanced over to see the blonde man slide in behind the defense table. Balthus and her client were talking animatedly, and Braun didn't even look up as the blonde man sat down.

"All rise. The Honorable Judge Walter Bradley presiding."

Bradley took his seat and motioned to the court. "Be seated. Ms. Balthus, is the defense ready to proceed?"

"Yes, Your Honor," Balthus answered as she stood. "The defense calls Wilhelm Braun to the stand."

Braun slid past his attorney and slowly made his way to the witness stand. Casey watched him carefully. Suddenly, she thought she saw him shift something under his jacket, under the sleeve. Casey shook her head. _I must be more tired than I thought._

Then the unthinkable happened.

In the blink of an eye, Braun whirled around and rushed at Casey. A scream echoed through the courtroom, seemingly suspended there by some invisible power. In a flash, he'd pulled her up out of her chair and pressed the tip of a knife into her throat. "Don't you dare move," he hissed into her ear, wrapping his arm around her chest and pulling her against his body.

The courtroom erupted into chaos. People scrambled over chairs and benches to get out. A court officer rushed Bradley out the side door, and another bailiff ran toward them. Balthus ducked under the defense table, shouting at Braun to stay calm and not do anything stupid. _It's a little late for that_, Elliot thought.

"Don't get any closer!" Braun shouted. Casey gasped as the point of the knife dug deeper into her throat. Her eyes flitted over in Elliot's direction. He'd drawn his weapon.

"Casey, stay calm," Elliot said, keeping his gun pointed at the smirking Braun. He jerked his head toward the bailiff. "Get outta here." Behind him, Munch had his own gun drawn and pointed at Braun. The bailiff grabbed Balthus, pulled her out from under the table, and quickly ushered her through the side door.

"So, here we are, Detective," Braun said softly. "This is quite a twist, is it not?"

"Let her go, Braun."

"You realize I have absolutely nothing to lose. You said it yourself. I'll be going to jail for the rest of my life. And here I have the unique chance to take away something dear to you."

"She's got nothing to do with this."

"Actually, she has everything to do with this. You know what my grandfather told me? The way to break someone is to take away everything they love, everything they hold dear. Why do you think the Fuhrer took away the Jews' houses, businesses, families, possessions? He wanted to break them mentally before breaking them physically."

"Braun, you don't have to be like your grandfather. He was a coward. He preyed on people weaker than him."

"My grandfather was a great man!" Braun shouted. "He saw what the Jews did to his country. Charging interest where it wasn't deserved, controlling the banks, leaving the rest of the country in absolute poverty! And your country was just as guilty. You left us with nothing after the war! After both wars!"

"Listen, Braun. She and I had nothing to do with that. That was sixty years ago. The war's over. The movement's over."

"The movement is just beginning." Casey let out a whimper as Braun increased the pressure on the knife, and Elliot's grip on his gun tightened. "Soon, the true Aryans will rise up against your Jew-supporting government and take back what is theirs."

"It's a pipe dream, Braun."

"It's the truth! It's already begun, Detective. Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold at Columbine. Charles Manson. The KKK. There are plenty of others willing to take up arms against the inequalities in this country. I am just the catalyst for it."

"Elliot," Casey whispered. "Elliot, shoot him."

"Yes, Elliot," Braun said mockingly. "Shoot me, and shoot the woman you love. Or let us go. Let me go on with the revolution you know is coming."

"You know I can't do that, Braun."

Braun put his mouth next to Casey's ear and softly nipped at it. Elliot's stomach twisted in anger and disgust. "I have an idea. I'll take her with me. We can have a little fun. Build our very own perfect race. Could you just imagine how beautiful those babies would be?"

Elliot's grip on his gun tightened with every word.

"Blue eyes. Beautiful blonde hair." Braun swept Casey's long hair back with his knife hand and pressed a kiss against her neck. She tried desperately to suppress the shiver of revulsion that rushed through her body. "The perfect Aryan children."

"Shoot him, Elliot," she whispered. "Just shoot him."

His blue eyes bored into Casey's. They stared back at him, filled with more fright than he'd ever seen in them before. "I love you, Casey," he said softly. Then he raised his gun and squeezed the trigger.

_Bang! Bang!_

Braun's head jerked back, and two small holes appeared right in the middle of his forehead, emitting a fine pink mist in the air as a thick stream of blood trickled down his face, some of it splattering onto Casey's jacket. The hand holding the knife jerked, and the knife crashed to the floor, shattering into a million pieces. Casey broke away from his falling body and stumbled to Elliot's side, falling into his strong arms.

As she buried her face in his shoulder, Braun's cold blue eyes rolled up to the ceiling, completely and totally empty of hate.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** So... last chapter. I hope I've wrapped it up well. These are always the strangest chapters to write. Special thanks to all those who've stuck with me for this story. I know it's completely different from anything on here, and I want to thank all of you for being so open-minded and so forgiving of me. I hope I've handled such subject matter well. I'll be posting the link to my original story in my profile whenever I get it written and posted on this site's sister-site. My pen-name is the same over there - cmaddict.

Special thanks to zero-zip., who beta'd the first five chapters of this story and who listened to all the crazy ideas I bounced off her. You rock!

Enjoy, and as always, review!

* * *

**Chapter 8**

Elliot scanned the crowd outside the courthouse for Casey. He hadn't seen her since the paramedics whisked her away to be examined. She had insisted that she was fine, but Elliot convinced her to get checked out anyway. He wasn't necessarily worried about her physical well-being. He'd gotten an up-close-and-personal look at that when she threw herself into his arms. But he was definitely concerned how she was taking the trauma of the attack. She didn't have a first-hand view of the violence he saw day to day. She wasn't used to blood and gunfire.

"Hey, Elliot!"

He turned around to see Munch jogging up to him. "Hey, John, you seen Casey?"

"Liv took her home. She seemed pretty out of it, but physically they gave her the green light." Munch stuck his hands in his pants pockets and toed the ground.

"How'd he get the weapon in?"

"The court officers stopped a tall, blonde guy running out of the courtroom."

"Everyone was running out of the courtroom."

"But not everyone took a swing at one of the officers."

Elliot snorted.

"He's a member of a neo-Nazi party here in New York. That knife he slipped to Braun was made out of ceramic, so it didn't set off the metal detectors inside."

"I guess Braun was right, then. He did start a war."

Munch looked at his colleague for a moment. "Yeah. Well, at least we stopped this one."

"This time."

The older detective pushed his hands deeper into his pockets as his characteristic smirk spread across his face. "So, you and Casey, huh?"

Elliot looked at his colleague sharply. "Where'd you hear that?"

"From you. I heard what you said to her right before you pulled that trigger. Hell of a shot, by the way."

The younger detective let a small smile touch the corners of his mouth. "Thanks." He sighed and ran his hand through his dark crew-cut hair. "And, about me and Casey, I would've told you but –"

Munch shook his head. "Don't worry about it. I get that it's hairy when it's someone you work with." He looked back for a minute and groaned. "IAB's here to talk to you."

Elliot sighed again. "Great. Them again."

"Listen, as far as I'm concerned, it was a clean shot. You did what you had to do."

Elliot raised an eyebrow at the other man. "Think Casey'll understand that?"

"I think she will." Munch paused for a moment and stepped closer to Elliot. "I saw the way she looked at you. Hell, even the way she's looked at you for the last couple of months. You're good for each other, and she knows it."

* * *

The ride to Casey's apartment was incredibly silent. Awkwardly silent. Olivia glanced over at the ADA in the passenger's seat. She just stared out the window at the buildings flying by, lost in thought. Olivia couldn't blame her. Casey wasn't used to seeing men shot down in front of her, and she certainly wasn't used to having a knife held at her throat. Olivia could still see the darkened spots of Braun's blood on the ADA's jacket. Proof of just how close to death Casey had come.

"Hey," Olivia said quietly. The younger woman turned her head and trained her blue-green eyes onto the softly-smiling detective.

The corners of Casey's mouth turned up slightly in reply.

"You okay?"

Casey sighed. "I… I don't know."

"Casey, you just had a near death experience. When stuff like that happens, it takes a long time to get past. I'm sure Huang could give you some therapy."

"No." She shook her head, tendrils of blonde hair sweeping over her shoulder. "I mean… yeah, I can't get the sensation of that knife against my throat away. But… it's something Elliot said to me."

Olivia's coffee-colored eyes widened. "He told you? Well, it's about damn time."

The attorney furrowed her brow and stared at Olivia. "How did you know?"

"Casey, he's my partner. I've known him for eight years. And I've never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you – not even Kathy. I've been after him to tell you for at least a month."

Casey slowly digested Olivia's words and bit her lip thoughtfully. "Do… do you think he meant it?"

"Absolutely," Olivia answered without hesitation. "Casey, he loves you. He would do anything for you. He nearly risked his career for you when you were attacked by Zegrin."

The other woman winced at that memory.

"Do you love him too?"

She sighed and glanced at the detective. They'd stopped at a red light, and Olivia was staring at her with her intense gaze. "Yes. Very much."

Olivia smiled and nodded. "Good. Then you should talk it over with him."

* * *

**Apartment of Casey Novak  
Friday, May 18**

Casey clutched the throw pillow from her couch tight to her chest. As hard as she tried, she couldn't get the smell of blood out of her nose. She kept feeling that knife against her throat, digging deeper and deeper into her skin. Physically she was fine. But she knew that emotionally, she'd be a wreck for weeks. It had been the same way with the Zegrin attack so long ago. She'd taken months to get over the physical and emotional trauma of that. But this... this was different.

But the thing that she'd thought the most about all day was what Elliot had whispered just before he took the shot.

She'd wanted him to say those words for so long. But did he mean them? Or was he saying that because he thought she would die? She'd meant what she said to Olivia. She was in love with Elliot, and had been for a long time.

Suddenly she heard a familiar footfall outside her door, then a key in the lock. The lock turned, and the door swung open.

An exhausted-looking Elliot stepped into the tiny apartment and quietly shut the door behind him. He turned around and smiled wearily when he saw Casey sitting on the couch, nervously chewing on her lower lip. "Hey."

Casey hugged the pillow tighter to her chest. "Hey," she replied softly.

Elliot looked at her for a moment. He wanted nothing more than to dash over to her and pull her close to his chest, feeling how alive she really was. But he restrained himself. They needed to talk, and as soon as he touched her, he knew he wouldn't be able to stop.

"What did IAB say?" she asked, breaking the stifling silence.

"I got cleared for duty," he replied, shrugging off his coat and draping it over her armchair by the TV. "But Cragen gave me a couple of days off."

She nodded, still watching him intently. "Good." She paused for a moment, her brain whirling. She wanted to just blurt out what she was thinking, but she couldn't. Not now. "Thank you, Elliot," she whispered. "You saved my life."

A hint of a smile touched his eyes. "You're welcome."

"I don't understand men like that. I've prosecuted hundreds of them, and I'll never understand them. How can people hate so blindly?"

Elliot sighed. "Men like that have to hate to live. It doesn't matter who or what. They prey on people they don't understand, blaming them for their problems instead of taking responsibility for trying to change things."

A single tear drop fell from Casey's eye, and Elliot's heart broke. "I… I can still feel that knife."

"Oh, sweetheart." He couldn't control himself any more. Elliot crossed the room in two giant strides and enveloped her trembling body in his arms. Casey wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her head in his shoulder. He pressed a kiss into her hair, onto her cheek. "I'm so sorry he did that to you."

"I thought I was going to die, or..."

"Ssh," he shushed her, pulling her tighter into his chest. "I'd never let that happen to you, baby. Not unless I was dead."

They stayed like that for a moment, her wrapped up in his arms and sobbing against his chest.

"Did you mean it?" she whispered into his shirt, breaking the silence and startling Elliot.

"What?"

"What you said in the courtroom."

Elliot gently grasped her shoulders and pushed her away so he could look her in the eyes. "Look at me, Casey."

She slowly lifted her tear-filled eyes so that they met his.

"When he had you… that knife at your throat…" He swallowed hard, trying to keep his emotions in check. "I thought I was going to lose you. And I couldn't take that risk without you knowing how I felt about you. I should've told you a long time ago. I love you, Casey. I mean that with every fiber of my being."

Casey didn't say anything for a moment. She just smiled tearfully and reached up with one hand to cup his cheek.

"Now would be a good time to say something," Elliot said after a long pause.

"Say it again," she whispered, slowly closing the distance between their faces.

Elliot grinned. "I love you."

Suddenly she pressed her lips to his. He immediately opened his mouth to let her in, tasting the saltiness of her tears mingled with the sweetness of her lip gloss. Their tongues twisted and entwined, communicating their need in the most ancient of ways.

Casey pulled back when the lack of oxygen took over. She rested her forehead against his and reached for his tie. "I love you, too," she whispered as she slowly loosened his tie.

Elliot smiled and recaptured her lips with his. His hands moved to the waistband of her gray sweatpants, and she moaned against his mouth when his fingers slipped under the thin material.

"Bedroom," she groaned as he moved his lips to her neck and nipped at the sensitive skin there.

"No time," he returned, blowing his hot breath onto her neck and sending shivers up and down her spine.

"But this is my favorite couch." Casey softly trailed open-mouth kisses down his jawbone.

Elliot slipped his hands under her t-shirt and brushed small circles across her back. She grasped the sides of his head and crushed her lips to his again. "We have business to attend to," he mumbled against her mouth.

She chuckled. "Is that what you call it?"

He pulled away from her for a minute, smiling gently as his eyes absorbed her shining eyes and kiss-swollen lips. No, that wasn't what he called it. Elliot Stabler called it "making love." And he would do that to her, again and again. He leaned forward again and gently kissed her forehead. Casey bit back a groan as his lips moved to her eyes, then her cheeks, then her nose, then her lips.

Casey leaned back against the armrest and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down on top of her. His sapphire eyes darkened in a strange combination of lust and love.

"I want you. All of you, forever. I want you to promise me that you'll be mine," he whispered, brushing his lips against her neck where the point of the knife had been.

She pursed her lips, pretending to consider it. "I think that's a promise I can keep." She smiled softly. "I love you."

A smile touched the corners of Elliot's mouth. "I love you," he said softly

Casey swallowed hard. She wanted his lips to replace the feel of the knife against her throat, wanted to feel him against her, wanted to feel alive again. "Will you make love to me, Elliot? Will you help me forget?"

Elliot smiled at her and kissed her deeply. "For the rest of my life," he murmured, his hands moving under her shirt to pull it over her head.

And as they fell into a deep sleep together in the afterglow, their bodies entwined on Casey's couch, the horror of hate slowly began to fade into just a distant nightmare.


End file.
